"I think you have had enough for the present," warned Vaughn.
"I want some honey," insisted the fat boy.
"No more honey today," answered the Professor incisively. "Stacy, what are we going to do with you?"
"Give me honey."
"We can't be bothered with you in this way. You will have to exercise better judgment, or I shall be forced to send you home. We are out for an enjoyable trip, not to carry along an indiscreet young man like yourself," warned Professor Zepplin.
"I—I can't help it if I get stung, can I?" muttered Chunky.
"No, but you need not permit your eyes to get bigger than your stomach."
"Bigger than my stomach? Why—I can't see out of my eyes now. Bigger than my stomach? Pshaw!"
"We will drop the subject for the present," decided the Professor sharply, whereat Stacy subsided for the time being. Owing to the lad's condition, however, the party concluded not to start on until later in the day, Mr. Vaughn offering to give the others some instruction in woodcraft to fill up the time from then until the afternoon. Professor Zepplin treated the bee stings, Stacy taking a certain sense of pride in his condition because it made him feel that he was a sort of martyr.
The honey was delicious, and the boys ate too much of it, but none would admit that he suffered any ill effects. Poor Chunky did not get another taste all the rest of the day. Yet the fat boy, while nursing his stings, was planning something that would fill the camp of the Pony Rider Boys with excitement and give them a thrill that would last them for some days.